


Because You Loved Me

by Silverfern500



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), deadpool/spider-man - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Because Deadpool, But there's a happy ending...., Character Death, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, angel of death - Freeform, but it's Deadpool so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 03:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfern500/pseuds/Silverfern500
Summary: Deadpool, through healing factor, can live forever.Peter... cannot.This is for what comes after, after Peter crosses over, what happens for him? And for Wade?This is an ultimate happy-end fic, for love that can transcend death.I forgot the prompt but, for everyone worried about Deadpool's healing factor / etc meaning he will outlive Peter... this one's for you.





	Because You Loved Me

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the angst.

The sad matter of fact was this: Deadpool could not die.

Not for good. Not for _forever_. Deadpool couldn’t stay dead. Oh he _could_ die, by his own hand or by the machinations of others, but aside a jaunty trip beyond the veil and a painful healing process, nothing else could come of it. Death just didn’t stick.

In the early days, Deadpool had developed a mutual ‘thing’ with Death. Actual Death. Seeing their face was a comfort, back then. Every time he died. A chance to catch up with a friend, steal a kiss; before the pain would come back with violent vengeance.

That was before Peter. Then there was After Peter. For from the day Deadpool first saw Spider-man, he knew. “That’s the one.” And gave up on Death for real. As after a life of rocky relationships, Deadpool fell for the young man’s quips and that ass (and that sass). No other previous heartbreak seemed to matter. Not around that young hero.

Miraculously, over time, the two grew closer. Deadpool changed to be better, to not kill. Peter called him a hero. Eventually, _his_ hero. For him, Deadpool would always be. So in return, Deadpool learned to trust the web-slinger. In time, Peter proved he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would never secretly use Wade.

Still, it shocked Deadpool to even remember the day Spider-man swung through his window, took off his mask and said “Hi, I’m Peter.” as if that wouldn’t change their lives. Well, maybe Peter had a clue. Because then he was moving in, and then Deadpool was on one knee. They built a life together soon after, brick by brick and injury by injury.

So Deadpool couldn’t die, but he worried about Peter dying all the time. Taking bullets meant for the boy, mothering whenever Peter fell ill. He was so damn glad when Miles came into the picture, that Peter passed on the mantle of Spider-man. He thought Peter would be safe after. Without the costume, without the constant danger.

When Peter grew older and too tired to keep up with Parker Industries, he handed his business over to the gal who basically already ran the place. Deadpool slowed down on his own work in response, so they could get a house upstate and spend more time together. Deadpool would cook dinner every night, and Peter would research for fun instead of work. They’d fight over what show to watch or what vegetables to plant, not fight villains or petty crime.

Peter was supposed to live to old age with him like that, was supposed to go out the peaceful way.

So _why_. Why wasn’t Peter breathing?

His brown eyes, clouded glass staring up at nothing. Wade held the man in his arms, already having ripped off the mask of Spider-man, exposing his face. The face of his husband, Peter Parker.

“I have to fight in this one,” Peter had said. Stubborn, righteous, _idiot_ Peter. “You know I do, Wade. Please don’t try to stop me.”

And fucking moron that Wade was, he hadn’t. This is what he got.

The blood that had fountained out of the wound in Peter’s chest had slowed, the warm liquid cooling where it flowed onto Deadpool’s suit as he held on tight. There was no one left alive but them - as Deadpool had mercilessly and brutally murdered everyone the second Peter fell. Peter could yell at him for killing later. Peter could-

There was no one left alive, but Wade.

And Deadpool was stock still. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t breathe.

Until with shaking fingers, he removed the glove on his left hand, and caressed Peter’s cheek in his palm “Sweetheart,” He choked out. “Peter, c’mon baby boy, you’re gonna miss dinner. I’m making lasagna. There’s that new episode of The Good Place we’re gonna watch, I’ll even let you tell me all about that sciency invention you’ve been excited about if you just - Peter you _have to wake up._ ”

Heavy tears landed on Peter’s forehead as Wade ran a hand over his own masked face and then removed the fabric.

“I’m sorry I said no to adopting a dog. Let’s adopt all the dogs, every dog, Peter. You can name all of them. Please. Let’s go to the shelter. Right now.”

“Peter I... I.... You haven’t seen the anniversary present I got you, it’s so inappropriate, I can’t wait to see how you blush. I mean, it’d make Cap blush, and he’s always getting railed by-”

“They’re gonna put your name in the papers again, ‘Spider-man returns’, maybe Jonah will come out of retirement to rag on you again. That’ll be so hilarious....”

_“Hey so, we won. We won, you know? We won right? We can go home now. Pete, we can go home. Petey? Sweet baby boy? Love?”_

_“You know I still haven’t gotten around to showing you my baby pictures. I know you’ve asked about young Wade and that’s usually a mother’s job, but uh, anyway I’m ready. I’ll show you, no matter how much you’ll laugh. So, let’s go?”_

_“......Peter?”_

\-----

Peter liked sleeping in. Peter _had_ liked-

Peter had slept in that morning, before the news. Before it all came to an end.

Wade remembered that, every morning he woke up, after. Suiting up and going out to work. Back to being a mercenary. Ironically, killing was the only thing that made him feel alive anymore. Killing and death were all Deadpool knew.

He was so familiar with death. So familiar with it, that he continued to die on the regular. Letting bullets hit him on ‘accident’. Letting the bad guys get him ‘by a hair’. Committing suicide himself and praying each and every time that he’d stay dead that time. He never did. He always woke up, to face another sunrise, to see Peter’s Spidey suit hanging in the closet, Peter’s favorite Chemistry mug untouched on the kitchen counter. It had been sitting there for years. Like the anniversary gifts Peter had bought, still wrapped and collecting dust in their bedroom closet.

Deadpool donated to charity and to Peter’s old school and college. He helped out in all the big fights for the side of good. At least that’s what Peter would have wanted. He even watered Peter’s stupid succulents until they finally gave up on him. Deadpool also still talked to Peter, in addition to himself, alone in their house. Every day. Praying every odd month. Longing for a response.

There never was one.

* * *

 

 

Death. The endless. The empty. So many destinations. So many after realms to end up in. There was Hel, Valhalla, multiple versions of what one might consider a heaven or hell. Limbo.

An endlessly white room, a desk. A single occupant. Until another formed, materializing into the empty space.

Peter blinked his eyes slowly. His vision stuck on the image of Wade pulling him into his strong arms. That red mask, the clear blue sky above them. Then... white. He blinked again, taking in the desk in front of him. The picture of a family on it, a stack of papers, folders to the side. A succulent like his. Sitting there, a tired old woman. All bones, skull prominent, black hooded robe.

“What-” He began, but with a wave of the woman’s hand, his lips forcefully clamped shut.

She sighed, clasping her hands in front of her as she rested her elbows on the desk and considered him. “Parker. Also known as Spider-man. Congratulations. You’re dead.” She said. Sounding like this wasn’t what she wanted to be doing. Her words were succinct, final.

Dead. Peter was dead. Peter didn’t feel dead.

Peter held a hand out in front of him, wiggled his fingers. He felt... younger, by about 20 years, for sure. Like he was mid-20′s again. But he certainly didn’t feel dead. He could smell the room, full of earth scents like birch and petrichor. He could still see Wade, the battle, when he closed his eyes.

Peter put his hand back down, and did a full turn. But there was nothing as far as the eye could see, save white. No walls, no doors, no horizon. Just the desk, when he turned back. He’d never longed to see home so much in his life, to see Wade passed out on the couch. To yell about muddy bootprints on the carpet _again_.

The woman watched him, quirking an eyebrow as she gave a half-smile and tilted her head. As if she could hear his thoughts. Or sense his thought-process. That was one thing that was gone, his spider-sense. Like a sixth sense, integrated into him and torn away. He felt raw and bare without it. “Parker. Spider-man. Whichever. You’ve led a, uh, unique life. Helping countless thousands, and yet bedding with one whose name has tormented and killed as many.” She summarized.

Peter swallowed. Worried about what that meant for his placement in the afterlife, if he was dead. _Was he dead_? Would that mean he _never got to see Wade again?_

The woman scoffed. Another point in the ‘can hear my thoughts’ column. “You’re good at helping those who are... troubled. And your actions qualify you for a unique position. We would like to ask you to become an angel of death.” She offered, sliding a paper forward on the desk to scrutinize it. Not even paying attention to Peter. As she read, she waved her hand again nonchalantly, and Peter’s lips unglued.

“I,” Peter tested, licking his lips and clearing his throat. “I’m always game to help people.” He answered, helplessly. Hurrying out a whispered “ _Is this the bad place..._ ” before the woman collapsed his vocal chords.

\----

Deadpool was tired.

He’d been fighting this battle for ages, along with all the big names. Avengers, Fantastic Four, X-men, you name it. He was so tired of cosmic forces and good and evil and _life_. He’d really meant it when he’d left it all behind for Peter before. He was supposed to be retired, for decades now.

Yet he fought on.

Deadpool had just slashed into one of the enemies, ripping him from groin to throat. Splattered in their blood, which vaguely reminded him of Peter’s blood, leaving the boy, coating him.. But no, he wasn’t there anymore, he was fighting. He had to fight. That’s when the sky split, and Wade’s vision blacked out.

When Deadpool came to, he was seemingly floating, suspended in space. In front of him... eternity.

Literally, Eternity.

“Mr. Parker.” Eternity drawled. _What is it with cosmic entities and last names_. Wade thought. Not used to anyone addressing him by his married name anymore. “Too long have you gone on, interfering with events and disrupting the natural order.”

Deadpool grinned. “How philosophical of you. Wanna go over my top ten interventions?”

If Eternity could frown, it did so. “Too long... from now on, Wade Parker, you will be mortal. You will be able to die, permanently. Take care, Deadpool.”

A searing fire crawled across Deadpool’s body, causing an indescribable itch beneath his skin and popping his ears. He didn’t even care how it would look or sound, he screamed. And screamed.

And returned to the battlefield, which was empty by then, screaming.

\----

“You’re safe now, you’re okay love.” Peter muttered, cradling the girl he’d just caught to his chest. She cried, shaking with shock, gratefully not even noticing as her body hit the water.

She rubbed her face back and forth across his chest, snot smearing on his black robe. “I just wanna go home...” she cried. “I wanna go home. I’m so tired. I’m so tired.”

Peter frowned, pressing his face into her hair. No matter how many he greeted and ferried to the other side, the suicides never got any easier. Even when there was someone waiting to greet them, it still deeply hurt him. “I know, darling.” He murmured. “Let’s take you home.”

\----

Deadpool took caution from then on. He wasn’t sure why. But from then on, his broken bones healed slow, taking months to set. His first broken arm after that frankly weird tripp was a good indicator that his confrontation with Eternity wasn’t an illusion. Bullets didn’t work their way out of his body on their own. Blood loss made him woozy. He didn’t regrow the two toes he lost to a sword.

Deadpool _could_ die, for the first time. For good. For forever.

Wade didn’t want to die. Wade knew what could come after death. He would never end up somewhere good. And Peter would have gone somewhere good.

Wade was painfully aware that he’d never see Peter’s stupid mug or suit again if he died. He’d never see the pictures they took together again. He’d never, in any capacity, see Peter again. Wade didn’t want to die, to trade one eternity on earth in one dimension where he could at least see traces of Peter and Spider-man’s influence everywhere, for somewhere Peter would never be or have touched.

Deadpool didn’t get a choice, in the end.

It was another big battle. Something Peter would have insisted fighting. Because of course he would. So Deadpool had to. Only, Deadpool wasn’t sure of himself anymore. And in the end, that cost him dearly.

“Ah, Deadpool. We meet at last.” Crooned the red-skinned woman. “I’ve been so longing for the chance.” And she twist the large sword piercing Deadpool’s stomach. He gurgled up blood.

Deadpool only thought of warm, sunny days. When he and Peter would go on a walk around the block. Peter’s head thrown back as Wade made a terrible joke about their next-door neighbor’s pies. They had been considering adoption at the time. A teenager. Someone difficult, hard to place. Someone who deserved a second chance and love going into adulthood. Peter had said, that was the kid who needed the most help. A trouble foster, a teen. And Wade had agreed. Besides, who could be more troublesome than them?

Wade saw forms, adoption applications, an old apartment lease, their mortgage. Their car registration. Multiple bills. Letters from the HOA. Inquiries from the local shelter. Their move-in boxes, the day Peter carried him bridal-style across the threshold the day they closed on the house.

The first time Peter introduced him as his husband. The first time they had dinner as a married couple. The first time they did their joint taxes. The first time Spider-man almost killed a guy because they hurt Deadpool _that_ badly.

The day Peter died in his arms. The way Peter smiled, energy fading as his life drained, saying “ _It’ll be okay, Wade. I love..._ ”

Deadpool knew he was dying. And he was _terrified_. He didn’t want to see Death. Not now. He knew it could only be Death waiting for him, he’d never seen anyone else when he died. And Wade didn’t want to see anything or anyone waiting for him in the hereafter... he just wanted-

\----

“ _Peter_.”

Peter was sitting on the floor of the breakroom, while other angels flit past him. Head in his hands, wondering if he’d ever get a break from his thankless job. And why did being an angel of death have to come with more thankless jobs? #Rude.

“Peter.” The voice called again.

Peter finally raised his head, looking at his boss. The one who recruited him so many years ago. “...yes?” He asked. He wasn’t supposed to work again for another 20 minutes. He had a _mandatory break_ , and he always used _all of it_ because _fuck_ corporations in absolutely _every dimension_ alive or dead.

The woman may have smirked, for all he could tell. “You have a job.” She stated coldly, despite her barely-a-smile.

Peter glared. “I’m on my break. It can wait.” He snipped. What could she do anyway, fire him?

If anything, the woman actually managed to beam. Radiating glee, despite her earlier attitude. “Oh, but you’re gonna wanna meet this one....”

Well, it was so out of character for her and so abnormal a job description, Peter bit. “Okay. Who is it?”

“You’ll regret it for forever if you don’t take this soul- you’ll see.” was her only cryptic answer.

\----

Wade lay on the ground. Light-headed from blood loss. The sword which impaled him still protruded from his midsection. “This is the most unfortunate definition for ‘penetration’ there is” he groused. Reminiscing on situations where the word was better used.

Unfortunately, Deadpool was dying. Actually, no-coming-back, dying.

One moment, Wade was sluggishly trying to stay awake, bleeding out. Then he was in an endless white room. Blinking in the new sensory input.

Wade felt along his center for the sword, but it was gone. Nothing but phantom pain. He looked rapidly from side to side as he moved his hands over himself. His suit was also gone. Everything was gone. It was all white, white, white. _What a white-wash_ , his mind supplied.

“Wade,” someone said, brokenly.

And that voice. Wade knew that voice. That voice had talked him to sleep, had talked him back to sanity, had spoken to him rough with sleep in the morning, had begged him for indecent things in the bedroom. That voice. That... that was... Wade couldn’t....

Wade fell heavily to his knees, and began to sob. “ _Peter._ ” He whined. If his mind was playing more tricks again- he couldn’t- not..

Peter took tentative steps forward, until he could kneel in front of Wade, and pull the man into his chest. “ _Wade_.” He cried. Reciting all he knew for decades, “You’re safe now, you’re okay, _my love_.” He said, “Let’s go _home_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't, please check out Damn Your Kiss! I am currently 4k+ into the first chapter of my next project so look out for that, too! I just took a pause to finish this one-shot I started before my next big chapter story. Congratz on all the AO3 team on the Hugo nomination, I hope we all survive Endgame, and see you next time!
> 
> \- I love The Good Place, obviously  
> \- I've had like. Every man in my family die. My grandma called me the family angel of death when I was like, 16. I took it to heart. Now ya'll get to deal with the concept  
> \- If anyone knows the prompt on tumblr dealing with Deadpool outliving Spidey? I'd be grateful because I do not. My memory is -insert expletive here-  
> \- Because You Loved Me, Celine Dion  
> \- Additional tags apply like "author dances around having to mention Shiklah" and "I'm tired I can't think of what exactly Peter would be studying after retirement don't @ me" and "Idk the comics started an arc by just calling it the newest Big Event so there's no evil villain exposition in this"  
> \- Eternity is an actual character with reality/time/etc bending powers? I've never personally read anything with them in it.


End file.
